They hardly gave me ten minutes after my dad died.
When I think about it, it comes back on flashes. First I'm watching my father being suck out into the darkness of space, the gates close within a second and I'm collapsing against my mother. Suddenly a new set of gates are closing and I find myself the way I will remain for the following two years of my life: alone.
The days merge into each other in the Sky Box, outside you can always hear the unmistakable noise of too many teenagers together. Ninety three of them, to be precise. Six more are on solitary confinement, Clarke Griffin, former princess of the Ark is one of them.
"I don't know what's worse, knowing I still have two years left on this place or not knowing exactly when I will get out." She mutters, laying down on the floor facing the fluorescent light, after a minute she replies to herself. "No, the worst part is still expecting for someone to answer to me." No one gives a reply for that. After a few weeks she gives up even trying to talk to herself. She stops thanking the people that bring her food, stops greeting those who escort her to the bathroom. Both delinquents in solitary and those charged with major crimes don't get visitation rights, Clarke hasn't seen her mother in months. Or Wells, but it's not like she wants to see him.
She is not allowed to receive mail either, or to write to them. In fact she is not supposed to do anything but to stare to the four silver walls that surround her and consider herself lucky for having a window in one of them. But the stars are not that fascinating when you live among them, and the Ground is only visible every once in a a while. The Ground, that's the dream.
According to what she heard, she is the youngest delinquent in solitary in the past twenty years. Usually those who break the law badly enough to get stuck in solitary are almost eighteen and get floated within weeks. Clarke is sure that even if they decide against floating her once she turns eighteen she'll probably beg them to. Two years without nothing to do and no one to talk to will do that to a person. It's only been four months and the blonde has gone through all the phases of dementia... twice.
"Food's here." A voice comments before knocking, and Clarke sits up, trying to blink away the dark spots in her vision for having stared at the light for too long. "Uh... Miss Griffin? Food's here." The voice is a little louder now, and the knocking continues. "Coming." The blonde answers, making it the first word she lets out in days, and she makes her way to the door, receiving the tray. "I thought you might be asleep, but you wouldn't want to miss your meal, would you?" The voice sounded thoughtful... and amiable. It took Clarke a moment to finally blurt out a 'Thank you'
"I'll be back for the tray in two hours. Uh... Bon apetit." The chancellor's daughter hears the guard's footsteps hesitate in front of her door before leaving. "Goodbye." She whispers after a while.
Two quick nods precede the voice she has been wondering about. Was it real? Did someone really engage in a conversation with her? Clarke was well aware that she could have dreamt it, or hallucinated it. But after the two knocks the same voice as before speaks up. "Can I have the tray?" Clarke's fingers tremble when she tries to get it through the groove on the door, he grabs it. And after a second he speaks again, he sounds closer to the groove but Clarke doesn't peek into it. "Look what I got you." He whispers, and slides a brand new pencil through the groove. Clarke gasps and snatches it off his fingers. "Oh my goodness." She breaths out.
Outside a chuckle is heard before he clears his throat. "It just... kinda upsets me you guys have nothing to do in there, especially you since you've got so much time left. I'd go insane..." He trailed off and Clarke scoffed. "I'm getting there."
"What do you know? The traitor's funny." Clarke scoffs again at that, the man chuckles louder, but a moment later his laughter gets further away from the groove, as if he was backing off to walk away. The blonde presses her ear against the door but she hears nothing. "Thank you." She says after a while.
"I'll be back for dinner." He replies, and leaves her with a pencil and the now absolute certainty that he exists.